As We Are Found
by Akky-chan
Summary: Sequel to "When All Is Missing". They have escaped the Order, but what to do now? Four stray exorcists and a scientist cannot make a difference on their own, especally when they dont know each other truely. But isolation cant last forever, either.
1. Code Word

**I just wanted to get this thing up, so please forgive the shortness...**

**SO! It's the maybe-maybe not long awaited sequel to "When All Is Missing"! I'm picking up a week later from where I left off there. I suggest you READ "When All Is Missing" BEFORE YOU READ THIS! Otherwise, it will be very hard to understand. **

**I had a third degree burn on my left arm once... I was in the emergency burn unit for ten days, and then went to physical therapy and had to wear a glove over that arm for half a year... seriously, the info in here about burns is not completely accurate, but the fact is, five seconds of direct contact on coals did that to be. Allen had a while of NO coals, so there is a difference... but mostly, just praise Lavi for being able to control fire, cuz I don't think this would work well, being held back for half a year... Moa wouldn't like it either...**

**Oh, and if anyone's wondering, I glanced around my desk and the first book I saw was the American Heritage Dictionary, so... but it didn't exist back then, so that's why... ahah, I need more books 7.7**

**Oh, and the 'password' thing was stolen from one of the first Naruto chapters I ever read... in SJ. I'm not an active reader, I just read it cuz it passes time. Don't ask me to keep up on recent events, though.**

Allen awoke several days later, his mini-comatose breaking much faster than his previous, certified coma. His body was wracking with pain from the beating he had taken from the guards and the stiffness that had overtaken him in the jail cell and the bruises the cuffs and bars had given him when he pulled and pressed against him. The burns were covering his whole body, whether or not his clothes had been burned in that particular place or not. The pain had apparently overridden his mind once his adrenaline had worn off, thus, the comatose.

Lavi and Lenalee had been carefully force-watering him throughout the whole time he was out, pouring small amounts of water into his mouth (obviously, with his head tilted up), being careful not to drown him, and stroaking his throat to make him drink. After the incredibly likely possibility of heatstroke in the fire, he needed water, whether he was conscious or not. They didn't have a needle, and it was too risky to take him to a hospital, and so, they had to go with the more dangerous, less conventional methed, which Lavi apparently made up on the spot.

Kanda often kept watch by the door when Moa was out, doing her job. She had been kept in the dark through most of her stay, though they had immediately asked her not to mention them to anyone at all, even after they left.

She had mostly understood. Being a police officer, she had gotten into several situations where simply having too much knowledge was deadly. Still, she had demanded some sort of information on their current situation if nothing else. Lenalee was silently thanking the God she utterly hated at that point, that Allen had made a friend whom would be this trustworthy and that he had managed to remember where her house was and take them there so quickly.

Moa had settled for Lenalee saying that Allen had been betrayed and the order had gone against him. She seemed satisfied with that much, at least.

Johnny spent his days working with Lavi to take care of Allen, and at every other possible time, mapping out important places and continuously checking on the mask that Moa had supplied for Allen. He painted it several times over to try and make it fit the color of Allen's pale face better, but to no avail, and they ultimately settled on white once again. Quite often, he spent his time sewing new 'uniforms' for the four exorcists, and even some sort of protection for himself. They looked not so much like the Order's coats, as they had no emblem and no special features, they were meant to be cloth protection and nothing else.

And the day Allen woke up, they began to plan their departure with him included.

"Where should we go first?" Lenalee asked, "But before that, what are we actually planning to do, Allen?"

"I was thinking we could find parts of Innocence independantly from the Order, maybe make a third force against the Earl and the Noahs," Allen explained." The Order has good intentions, but completely wrong ways of going about them... obviously," He hissed the last word sort of like an afterthought. Lenalee laughed nervously, knowing almost exactly what he was talking about.

"So what's first?" Lavi interjected. "Set up our own headquarters or become a dictator?" Kanda hit him over the head with Mugen for the horribly placed joke. Allen sighed.

"I thought we might want to just travel around a bit," He continued. "It's too early to make any big moves, 'cause obviously, I'm not in that great a shape and I'll be useless if we get into a fight any time soon..." To say Allen wasn't fine was an understatement of unimaginable proportions. His friends were careful to keep their distance. The incidents at Central had been too much and almost any physical contact set Allen off.

It was a nuisance, but it was something that had to be dealt with. He was fine with speaking and contact if he initiated it, but too much of anything and he would begin to be frightened and twitch away from anything that moved.

"If we declare ourselves too early, the Order and the Earl will find us. We should lie low for a bit and just kill Akuma as they come and collect innocence if we happen to find any," Allen finished. There were nods at this suggestion. It made coherent sense. It seemed pretty reliable.

"What if one of us gets caught, but the rest are safe?" Kanda piped in. Of course he would be the one who points out an obvious flaw.

"We get them back, duh," Allen said. "No matter what, none of us go on without the others, got it?" He said in a voice that sounded as though it had come straight from hell, promising any deserter a very painful repentance.

He blinked and shook his head furiously. They weren't going to become like the Order... but they had come along with him willingly. He wasn't about to let them off the hook if they decided to bak out at a very bad time, was he?

He steadied his head as his vision swam from the movement. He still wasn't quite composed enough to move quickly, and he was still reteaching his legs how to move. Burns, whether they be second or not, were definitely not good. Still, he considered himself lucky that he had managed to avoid touching the coals and was only slightly burnt by the flames, otherwise he's had third degree burns all over his body and most likely be _immobile_ for at least a month.

"A-anyway," He continued hastily, noticing the odd looks his friends were giving him. "Maybe if we do get separated somehow, but in _battle_, _not_ like _abduction_," He added even more hastily, "Maybe we should have a key word or something to know that no one else would figure out..." He said. He had read that in a story once when he was with Mana, or rather, Mana had read the book to him, in an attempt to teach him to be literate.

The others nodded, understanding where he was going with it. They all started tossing out suggestions. Heart, together, comrade, the complete dialogue of the American Heritage dictionary ("Lavi, one, there is no such thing, and second, a dictionary _isn't _going to have dialogue anyway!"), and about a million other random words and poems, including 'Komurin XVI', and 'soba'.

Allen hated to tell them that every single one of the suggestions was either stupid or really obvious to guess, so he just said, "Let's save this for later," and thankfully, that was the end of it.

There was some silence as they all debated within their own minds what to discuss next.

"...what about the Ark?" Johnny asked hesitantly. He wasn't much in the topic of strategies, as he was the only one who wasn't an exorcist, and thus not used to the complexities of combat, but he thought he should voice this particular concern. "Are we going to keep letting the Order use it?" He asked.

Allen blinked and looked over at him. "Well... I don't see why not..." He said quietly.

His friends all almost fell off of their chairs. "What do you mean?"

"If we let them keep the Ark open, they can find us easily!"

"It'll be easy for them to track us if they send troops all over the world!"

"How are we going to use the Ark ourselves if they're swarming it?"

"I knew they messed up your head, stupid beansprout!"

"ALLEN!" Allen yelled, temporarily stunning the others into enough of a silence that he could explain himself. "The Order isn't bad, just corrupt. If I close off the Ark, they wont have enough time to et to the Innocence we miss before the Earl. I'm not choosing who's better, I'm choosing to help the one who's not worse."

He took a breath, organizing his thoughts again before continuing. "Besides, the Earl can use his Ark too, if we give our Ark to the Order, then they'll at least be able to delay the Earl a bit. And I'm not going to close the Ark if there are people inside it!" He said, the last sentence clearly saying the argument was over. "Also..." He said, answering their unsaid question. "We can get to different parts of the world without the Ark. We can use trains and boats again. Even though we'll have to pay for tickets, we can always work and gambol for the money... there are reasons I learned half the skills I have, even if they seem useless to some," And then, the 'darkness' overtook Allen. Lavi backed away slowly.

"Hey!"

They blinked, and all eyes locked onto Johnny, who's sudden interjection had awoken them from their own world again. He blinked before realizing he had almost shouted. He covered his mouth and blushed softly before speaking.

"A-about the password, or name, or whatever..." Johnny said softly. "You want something easy to remember, but no one would ever imagine, right?" He asked. Allen nodded.

"Lucifer's Angels."

**IMPORTANT! IMPORTANT!!**

**I intend to try and keep this as close to anything plausible in the manga as I can imagine, so the Bookmen WILL play a roll, Lev WILL return and the Order is yes, taking a back seat, but it is still important. I WILL be going through this until the end of what I think will happen in the series, and so, I'm sorry, you're stuck with AlLena. BUT!! Before you stop reading, AlLena is NOT going to dominate this whole fic! This is remaining a FRIENDSHIP!!**

**But yes, the Heart will apear, and I am going to try to resist OCs as much as possible, but obviously, that's not going to happen completely. I'm still going to try, and if I can, I'll edit in all the main-stream characters that I can. **

**So, I'm going to say this now... I am going to make this something like I have NEVER written before, so please, give me as much critique as possible, and I will love you all forever! I'll try to keep the story going, but there will be those chapters where it's a full memory, or it's a sit-down-and-explain thing. Please don't hate me. I'm just trying to keep this story alive**

**Will you all stick with me through this one, too??**

**(Just to make you all realize how important you all are: I was sick for two days straight and this is what I was working on while I was supposed to be resting and catching up on my homework. THAT is how frickin important you all are to me!!... actually, I still have Lit to do 0.0 oh dear...)**


	2. Council Meeting

**Okay guys, chapter 173 broke my heart and mended it all over again, so more plot twists have formed and I ABSOLUTELY ADORE LINK NOW, TOO!! T-T oh dear God... CROSS-SAMA!! I KNEW YOU WEREN'T A TOTAL A--HAT B-- MASTER! Q-Q -Cross Marian fanclub member-**

**and I know I got Cloud wrong, but I havent heard enough from her to write her correctly T.T**

**But guys... if you have a question, or expect me to reply to you... please log in? It makes it much easier to reply if you do, and I've gotten some amazing reviews that I want to reply to, but I cant since they're not logged in -.- **

**there are times when people misread and I want to correct them, or when I'm given a question, I want to answer it, and I'm not going to be using anyone's email other than on , because... well, that'd give away my email, too. So, if you want me to reply/answer a question... please sign in for like... five seconds? I'm not nagging, and you don't have to, but it'd make it easier... **

**This sucks, I know it sucks, and it's short, but I've been having problems with writing lately. I know what I want to happen, but I'm going to have to get past the first stages of this before I can go do what I want. Timing's also an issue in here, so it's going to be complicated like that, so please don't yell and scream at me for not-so-great chapters like this...**

**disclaimer: s are overused**

The door banged shut behind him as he entered, promising that none of them would leave before the meeting was over. It was dark and took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. It was scarcely decorated. The only thing that could possibly be called a decoration was the huge flag over the tabel, hanging down over them, forcing the Order's crest to be noticeable at almost every moment.

The tabel was large and round, black and surrounded by chairs, half filled, half open. He swallowed and took his seat beside Renee, head of the American Branch. They shared a glance with each other before looking over at their friend, Komui.

Komui looked, in a word, beaten.

There were bigger bags under his eyes than anyone had ever seen on him. His hair was uncurled and lacking it's usual sheen. One of his hands had a darker blotch on it. A coffee stain, most likely. That hand was trembling.

Why? He had already been cleared of any charges of having connections to the 'deserters' other than his younger sister and the fact he had defended Allen Walker two years prior. However, it was determined by the grand generals themselves that Komui was innocent and was never planning to help them escape.

Levirrier, obviously, was furious. It was a well known fact at that point that he had been trying to purge all impurity in the Order for years. Allen Walker had been the one stain he had been fighting with for a while. The moment he supposedly had the stain off of the clean white shirt, coffee came and spilled again on it, making it even larger than before. True to that, Allen Walker had returned in a bang, stealing exorcists into his alliance. Like a coffee stain.

Komui's hand with the coffee stain was shaking. His little sister was gone. Going to be hunted down. Allen was going to be assassinated if anyone found him. Kanda was deemed to be put into custody with Johnny and the Bookman Order was thinking very seriously about the fate of their faulty apprentice and the most promising heir.

Bak and Renee shared another worried look. They had also become attached to the 'deserters' during previous visits. It was quite impossible to not feel _anything_ for them, but what they felt had to be like nothing compared to Komui.

Komui had watched as Lavi struggled to become and exorcist and then try and fall out of the habit. Komui had watched as Kanda struggled to be the best and never ever be hurt. Komui had watched Allen live in hell. Komui had watch quietly, sitting beside his little sister, holding her hand while she was writhing in insanity.

Komui had sat beside Johnny at night, telling him Tapp had definitely gone to heaven with Suman. Komui had seen it all and everything else there was after that.

Bak breathed out a tense sigh while Renee closed her hands into fists under the table. They might not be from the same branch, but Komui and the 'deserters' were their friends and they weren't about to be left out of the action. They tried to sort out everything in their heads, everything they ever knew and every debate they'd ever been in. Like it was all coming up, directing them to this one debate.

Levirrier and Link strode up to the front of the room, Levirrier surrounded by an air of tenseness and loathing, directed towards most every person in the room. Link carried with him a large stack of papers, and though it didn't show, he had the distinct air of a person who did not want to be in whatever place they were already in.

"We are here today to discuss the deserters," Levirrier barked. One of the people, somewhere in the shadows of the tabel, groaned. Levirrier's head snapped around to their direction.

"Inspector, please forgive my rudeness, but have we not discussed them enough?" She asked.

"Three of our most powerful exorcists and one of our most knowledgeable scientists are on the run with a Noah who obtained an Innocence through taking over the body of the supposed Destroyer of Time!" Levirrier barked, "Are you so willing to let such traitors run free, while they have the power to overthrow our Order, which has stood, battling the Millenium Earl for uncountable years?" The room echoed with Levirrier's outburst. The poor lady whom had dared speak fell into frightened silence. Not a squeak escaped her. There was silence for almost several minutes before yet another lady spoke.

"Levirrier..." Cloud whispered, "What exactly are you planning for those children?"

"Only the most painful and inescapable death this Order can bestow," He hissed back. "Those 'children', as you call them, have committed the worst crime in the recorded history of the Order," He said, his voice rising with every word, "The Bookman records that were secured two years ago, have still not yet yielded a worse crime, and they were recorded by the original Bookman in the _time of Noah himself!_"

More silence was followed by this. "And why 'children', Miss Nyne?" Levirrier asked, reverting to hushed words. "Surely you've realized by now they are monsters whom have invaded our tower and leeched off our precious sacrifices that God himself hath granted us," Komui visibly tensed up. "Everything about Allen Walker seemed to point to him being a traitor, but no one saw the warning signs before—"

"—Why would we know Walker was or is a traitor?" Bak demanded. "Walker was the most trustworthy, inspiring young man most of us had ever—"

"Allen Walker appeared at the Order with a curse mark on his forehead!" Levirrier roared. "Allen Walker survived the Noah two times when he supposedly was to be exterminated! Allen Walker was able to control the Ark on pure will and _Allen Walker_ was and currently is the heir to the Fourteenth Noah!" A bang echoed through the room as he struck the tabel.

"Did any of you think it odd that he could charm anyone into anything? Or that the late Cross Marian would just happen to pick him up after he had brutally murdered his foster father, who happened to be Number Fourteen's _older brother?—_"

"Dont youbring Marian into this!"

All eyes turned from Levirrier to Cloud. She was standing, her hair displaced from her outburst, showing the battle scars on her face. Her pale blue eyes flashed dangerously, clear and focused, ready for a fight, verbal or physical, it didn't matter much.

"Cross Marian was and probably is a bastard, even as a ghost or a devil, or whatever he is now," She said. "He was a bastard, but when you saw the way he looked at that poor child, you knew that—"

"_Knew what?_" Levirrier shouted. "Knew that he was planning to use Allen Walker to overtake the Order, but was killed before he got the chance? Knew that Allen Walker was the one? What did you _know _that Cross wanted with a child such as that?" He spat. "Allen Walker was apprenticed to Cross Marian for three years, on the fourth year he came to the Order and aided in the search to find him! In that same year, he was discovered to be related to the Noah, and you stand here, expecting me to believe everything Cross did was out of coincidence?"

Cloud was silent, but she still stood firmly, her lips in a tight line.

"Do you expect us all to believe that Cross Marian stood idly by and allowed the Millenium Earl to meet Allen Walker on his _father's grave_? Don't you think that's a slight bit idiotic, considering his duty an exorcist!" Cloud closed her eyes.

"If you had even glanced at Cross when that boy was mentioned you would have realized Allen was almost his son..."

"Cloud, please sit down..." Komui said. "Your argument wont be heard here, I'm sorry," Cloud bit her lower lip, but did sit down. "Now, Inspector Levirrier," Komui said, his voice strengthening with every syllable. He looked up heatedly at Levirrier. "Would you be so kind as to enlighten us as to what we will be discussing, and possibly, begin the discussion? I recall I have work to do," Levirrier's eyes narrowed.

"Of course," He said, "We will continue using the Ark for transportation to the battle field."

The room irrupted in conversation. Levirrier growled until they finally died down, demanding he be heard. "We are only using it in sight of the assumption Allen Walker will be too fearful to use it if he hasn't yet shut it down," He explained, his voice growing level. "The fact remains that there may be a trap, and so, before anything, we are planning to launch a full-scale investigation of the ark and all it's portals, in addition to guards being posted at every entrance."

Several mutters and sharp comments swept about, all at once so it was difficult to decide whom had said what. Bak hissed to Renee "He certainly does love abusing power. We only have so many men... and why would Walker try to come back if he just got out, anyway?"

Tiedoll and Sokaro shared looks. "I doubt Allen's foolish enough to try something of that sort." Tiedoll muttered. Sokaro grunted back about "the brat wont even try to close the portals, the imbecile takes after Cross, after all..."

"We will dispatch a group of exorcists to track them down when we have enough in spare," Levirrier continued, "In the meanwhile, we should have strict supervision over all exorcists whom knew Allen Walker."

One by one, everyone but Bak, Komui, Link, Renee and the three generals were getting into the act. "Make it a new policy to have a tracking chip imbeded into the exorcists, so we wont ever have them run away! Get the science department on that right now!"

"Make the newer exorcists track down the desserters, they wont have emotional attachments to get in the way."

"Can Hevraska trace innocence? We might be able to find them that way."

"Did anyone ever decide if Cross was really dead? It could have been he was trying to get Walker out of the Order but he failed and got himself killed or had to go into hiding!"

As the mutter and bustle died down, Levirrier spoke again, "Furthermore, no one is to address the heretics by name within the walls of the Order unless it is of the most importance, so much that they must be at our gates, weapons out and looking to kill to even utter their leader's name," This time, there was no muttering, no movement, just confusion.

"Why would we not say their names?" Someone asked. Komui did not know them, neither did Bak Renee or the generals. It was one of the Grand Generals in charge of the Order. A female.

"Because, Miss Currel," Levirrier stated, "They no longer exist as anything other than deserters who need to be captured."

**CRITIQUE, PLEASE!**

**Next to be updated will probably be the X-over, then_ CoinBoy_ or _BeforeItWasLost_. I'm trying, I really am.**


	3. Suddenly

**This is probably come out eventually, I think... one or two more chapters at most, probably...**

**Haha... this and CoinBoy are the most popular fics I have xD somehow, that's really expected... but CoinBoy or Tale is probably going to be updated next... aii... **

**If anyone's wondering... I love mulberry trees, and apples dipped in honey 8) I don't eat them for religion, I just think they taste good... **

**Also... NIGHTWISH RULES!! 8D I got their original album, and I LOVE it!! Go out there and love Nightwish! (yayayayay!! Fairy-tale references! 8D ) **

**and... good/bad news... I just entered a huge writing competition, so... 0.0; dear lord, I will fail... if you don't know and don't really care... well, as a sum-up, fics are going to be delayed a bit in updating for the month of November, but I'll try to update them all before them at least...**

**Disclaimer: My teachers are Nazis. I might be in the wrong time period to answer this... **

It was perhaps a week later that Allen was finally fit enough to go outside. The leaves on the trees were already changing colors. One male mulberry tree in particular had it's leaves already in a fine golden bronze hue. The yellow veins stood out expertly on the thin leaves. The tops of most trees had already begun thinning out, displaying the twisting, broken patterns of the branches.

The wind was picking up gradually as the air cooled into the autumn weather, carrying with them the smell of honey and apples that may have been from many miles away, or perhaps just a cyder mill down the road. The clouds were glowing with their pre-twilight gold and pink while the sky remained a determined blue and the grass which was not covered by early-falling leaves was tinted a thousand colors of rich green. Or maybe it just looked that way because of his eyes being so used to the dull-grayness of the Order and the world he had been occupying for so long.

All he really wanted to do at that moment was drop his hood, his coat and roll up his sleeves to feel the autumn on his bare skin. He trembled, trying to deny the want. How long had it been since he had been able to truly touch the world? Two years at least, the last time truly 'feeling' nature being on a rocking ship that tumbled over the seas, the salty spray splashing into his face and soaking through his cloak. His memory roughly called upon what would once have been the foul taste of seasalt in his mouth.

But two years of imprisonment and torture had made him wish for the foul taste of that seasalt. Maybe, one day, while they were free, he could go over the sea again. Skip the train, he wanted to be on a boat. A large one, with an open deck, like the one they came to what should have been his home. What should have been.

He gripped the cloth of his left hand glove. The white, thick, cowhide fabric separating his fingers and warming them horribly, so the wish to take off his new coat and shirt grew even stronger. He envied other boys, whom were able to take off their upper-body clothes as they wished. Even if quite a bit of society didn't quite like such behavior, it was still acceptable, as long as the siad boy wasn't foolhardy enough to run through the streets in such a state.

He breathed in deeply, trying to compensate for his inability to feel with the purity of the air inside him instead. It almost felt like he was breathing in water, the air came and went so fast. It helped. His body calmed down as the horrible heat from under his coat escaped through his lungs.

What month was it now? October? November? No, it couldn't be November yet, it must have still been October... there was no way he had been out so long as to have slept in a coma for long enough to miss all of October...

He shook his head, dismissing the depressing thought. He had missed so much of a life that was destined to be so short, a month should have hardly mattered anymore, but it seemed to matter all the more.

But the rough shaking of his neck when trying to dispel the thought caused servere pain to shoot through his spine. His hands flew up to clutch the bandages tightly wrapped around his neck, hiding the tendrils that had crept over the entire left side of his face during the Headquarter's second invasion. In a moment, the memories flashed through his mind. The falling rubble, the bullets, Komui's office, the horrible pain he had been in, the way Damien had screamed at him, the way his arm had—

He forced himself to breath again and leaned against a tree to support his shaking legs. The bark was hard and chipped. He felt the jagged pieces even through his coat, and especially on the back of his head. He hadn't noticed before, but his hair had grown out again over his brief visit.

He felt pathetic. He had never been so weak in his life, not even when he was a child and partly paralyzed, his left hand being completely useless at the time. A young child in an orphanage, or one the streets. It didn't matter. The fact was his shaking arm was too hazardous to do much, though he was grateful, eternally, that he had been kept out of the factories because of his arm. Machines daily ripped off limbs, sewed fingers and crushed skulls. Those who died instantly were considered lucky compared to the rest whom were in constant pain until they bled to death.

Allen had to admit it, where he came from wasn't his favorite place in the world, but Britain was and forever would be his home, so he couldn't help but feel the connection— or lack thereof when gone.

His legs gradually returned with their expert balance. He couldn't help it anymore. He had been broken. He had gone past the point of no return many times already. In every play, there was that point. In every life, there was that point. He had gone through that place so many times he could hardly remember where he had been before.

It was sad. Before, he could have taken massive amounts of pain. He could remain standing after being thrown into walls and had buildings collapse on him. He could still walk around with sense after being struck with a hammer (after he woke up, of course). He could still train after having his heart almost ripped out, still beating, from his chest and his arm decimated. He had been able to fight while his body was broken down to near the atomic level.

But six months in Central and he lost balance after turning his neck too quickly.

He exhale again, rubbing the place on the back of his neck where the pain had begun. He automatically tried to find his arm with his eyes as he moved it, but to no avail. He was still getting used to his master's mask, or rather, his version of his master's mask.

It was strange, usually anything that reminded him of that man made him ill. He couldn't help it, he had gone through thee years of 'training' under the madman. He was quite sure that was enough reason to dislike him. And aside from that experience...

_The bastard sold me._

The Crows. His voice. His pleads. The pain. The smile. His fight. The hug. The lies. The truth. The hug. The sorry. The hug. The hurt. The hurt. The smile. The hug. The truth. His master. His master. The hug.

He fell over this time, covering his ears, trying to supress his memories of _that rainy night_. Everything ached suddenly. The Autumn was cold enough, suddenly. He suddenly didn't want to take off his jacket. He suddenly didn't want to expose his flaws. Everything came at him suddenly.

It was ironic how suddenly the fact hit him.

Walking forward suddenly had never been so hard as it was now. At that moment, suddenly surrounded by what should have been beautiful. It had been once, moments before, was suddenly ugly, scary. The gold was now sickness, suddenly diseased.

He trembled, trying to lift himself up and off the ground. His arms shook with the strain of lifting the rest of his body, but he did it. His left shoulder ached. Badly. Nothing compared to what he had been feeling earlier, but it still was a constant annoyance and a reminder of how weak his body had become, how poorly it reacted to pain after months and years of training. Training to be like a dog.

His legs buckled under him as he tried to stand. It took him two tries before he was securely on his feet.

The moment he was able to, he turned and ran.

Anywhere. Even if it was back.

000

Moa jumped as her back door opened and slammed loudly, causing her to almost cut her finger as she pealed some potatoes for that night's supper. She had taken to the Order's outcast's quickly and had been acting as an older sister or mother to all of them almost as soon as they had arrived. Though it was Allen that got them into her home, he didn't have anything to do with her befriending almost all of them immediately.

So her natural instincts that had been reawakened in their stay came in to play right away as she saw a familiar stock of snow-white hair rush through the hallway aside her, moving so quickly that any later and she would have missed him entirely.

But what really made her notice him wasn't the door, but the soft, strained breaths he was taking. Like he was fighting off tears. He had been acting badly every since he had awakened.

What? She was a police officer, it was her job to notice things. It was also her job to make the wrong things as right as she could. She couldn't help it, to be an officer, you had to really care, because you might be giving up your life in the line. You had to be ready, and those who couldn't bare the pressure soon left. But three years ago, before she had met Allen, there would be nothing in her line of work to make her not come home to her brother, and after that... she was an even better police officer.

She wouldn't let another person lose a life because of a fight, so no one would be another Mark.

She could do absolutely nothing to be able to fully repay Allen for what he had done, because she truly believed he had saved her sister and Mark. All she could do was try to help him in any way she could, even if he didn't want her to trouble with it— that role was reversed when they first met, anyway.

She made her way through the living room and towards the spare bedroom they had given him almost two weeks earlier. He was forced to spend most of his time there unless one of the others happened to be able to help him get out. Today had been the first time that he had been able to function well enough to go outside. He had been outside for barely half an hour. Nothing could have happened to him in that time, right?

She knocked slowly on the tanned wooden door, eyeing the pictures on the wall beside it. The same ones Allen had knocked over when he had first arrived in her house. She heard no reply, and so she opened the door herself, slowly, peering in carefully. She winced.

Allen was collapsed against the wall, his legs drawn up against his chest. He was closing his visible eye and his mouth opened wide, gasping like he had just been scared halfway out of his mind. His white hair was plastered to his skull, as though he was wet, sweating.

"A...Allen?" She whispered. His head shot up and he winced and froze very suddenly. "Allen?" His head dropped back into his legs.

"Good evening, Moa..." Was the faint whisper she heard. He was hardly talking. But he was recovering from whatever they did to him... right?

"Allen, what's wrong?" She asked. She took slow, quiet steps across the room toward the mess of mismatched colors that was Allen. The shape shrugged. He didn't make any noise in the process. She hardened her face. "Allen, answer me," She said loudly. The body against the wall stiffened and threw out a weak reply to her near-demand.

"S-sorry," Moa's eyes softened again. There were people who came into stations like that. Small, stuttering, terrified. They were the victims of the crimes, without fail. She finished crossing the room and sat beside Allen's form. Only up close did she notice how he was shaking. How subtle the movement was, even though it made his entire frame tremble. He didn't look like he could control it.

"Allen, what's wrong?" She asked again, whispering. He shook his head rapidly, like it had been a yes or no question. "I'm not going until you tell me what went so wrong," She hissed, "I'm just a bit tired of being kept in the dark when it's so obvious something's wrong."

"Sorry," He muttered. Moa sighed.

"Fine," She leaned over and hugged him. "At lest let me try..." Allen began to shake more. She felt something wet on her arm. As she looked up she realized she couldn't see his eyes at all, because they were covered with the thin sheets of white hair spotted with burnt black that had resulted from what Lenalee had said was a fire. Why there had been a fire, she didn't want to know.

His eyes may have been hidden, but his trembling jaw showed clearly the tears as they fell freely down his face.

She hugged him tighter. Suddenly, she knew why he had wanted to be alone.


	4. Morning 4 AM

Attention all people who bother enough to read my A/Ns

**Attention all people who bother enough to read my A/Ns!!!—**

**Never, ever, EVER describe a person getting water from a well.... you cant make it sound not-perverted **

—**.—;**

**So tired lately... I need more sleep, and it's only Monday TT-TT **

**Aii… my normal computer's wireless died and my school's computers are (as always) being pains T.T wah, I want life to be easy for once… THE SCREEN JUST WENT BLACK! I THOUGHT I LOST THIS WHOLE FREICKIN' THING!!! 0.0''**

**About this chapter…. Cold numbs things a lot, and you have to admit… even Kanda has to slip up here and there. I mean… maybe he doesn't talk as much as the others because he has a habit of saying the wrong thing? **

**...there is a plot moving, but right now, we have to focus on Allen recovering…**

**This chapter is for Raven (even though she didn't ask for it), because she loved Kanda, and I'm going to try to get the others in here soon! **

**Disclaimer: ..just because we tend to get sick in the same week, does NOT mean I am Hoshino Katsura-dono!**

It was very early in the morning when Allen finally awoke again. His eyes were burning softly, they felt swollen and were probably a dull red. His arms and legs were stiff and felt strange to move after being in the same, knotted, position all night long. The left side of his face felt oddly wrinkled, probably with lack of oxygen underneath the mask.

Was this what it felt like to wear an actual, physical mask? There had never been anything visible he had ever tried to cover except for his arm and, on the occasion, his hair, which attracted it's fair share of looks on a regular basis. The lines around the mask— his jaw, through his face and around his ear— where the edges pressed harshly against his skin stung harshly, as though they had been cut, split through the skin.

The inside of his mask seemed hot and clammy, most likely from the tears which could only have escaped the confines through the very slight cracks between his skin and the material of the mask. He covered the slit of the eye with his still-gloved palm and shook the mask until it released his skin with a slight 'click'.

It slid off his face and was held easily in his hand. The left side of his face suddenly went cold and numb, the air being ruthless in the moment of exposure. His breath caught and he dropped the mask the moment he was able to register the feeling. As the mask fell to the floor, landing with a clatter, his hands flew up to try and cover his face. He pulled his arms back the moment they touched, the feeling of leather against his raw skin even more freakish than the air.

He had fallen asleep, hadn't he? His face tingled numbly as he stripped off his gloves and exposed their skin to the air as well. They too were clammy and freezing, slowly becoming numb.

The air was absolutely frigid, Allen registered in slight suprise. It had taken him an extraordinarily long time to realize it, too. He then registered that he was shivering in the cold, despite his coat and being fully clothed.

His breath froze in little clouds of white water vapor as he breathed. He watched in slight amusement as he blew out of the corners of his mouth and altered the way it came out. From one point, it looked like a chimney, from another, he could make a bubble, and from a last, it almost looked like he was smoking a cigarette. He laughed quietly. He would never catch himself dead smoking. Too many bad memories. He shuddered at some of the more vivid ones, but the earliness of the morning drove the more recent thoughts far out of his mind. Except for his appearance, he thought for a moment it were two or three years earlier, when he was still fifteen....

At that point, the cold became nearly unbearable. He shook as he got onto his weakened legs, falling several times, almost breaking things. It took him a good while, perhaps ten miniutes before he managed to stumble out into the yard. It was even colder than in the house, a thick frost on the yard that reminded him of snow, though it was much too early. This was apparently the first heavy frost, a tad bit late, too, being in mid to late October already. He was grateful momentarily that he had slept in his boots, already being warm in huge contrast to the freeze outside.

His face and hands became completely numb as he continued his walk outside, around to the front of the house, which was in town, rather than the back of the house, which saw into a forest. At the doorstep, he picked up one of the wooden buckets stacked there. Waiting to be filled with water.

In the center of the miniature version of a town square was a large pump well, made out of iron and probably plunged deep into the ground, far below what they on the surface could imagine. He hooked the handel of the bucket over the stub of a nose on the well, letting it hang there, under the nosel. He went around behind it, clutched the large handel, letting out a small sound as the freezing handel touched his bare hands, but pumped nonetheless, ignoring the horrible cold spreading through his arms.

It took a while to unclog the ice from within the upper levels of the well, but when the water came, it rushed up quickly, filling the bucket halfway with two pumps. With a third, he stopped, waiting for the freezing water to stop flowing out of the pump before lifting the bucket again and returning to the house.

The frost made the walk slippery and dangerous, each uneven step threatening to make Allen fall or drop the bucket and spray freezing water over his already near-frozen form. Or at least it seemed so to him. But everything seemed so much more dangerous lately, so he took his time, as much as he could spare. He took that extra moment to find his balance, he took the extra ten seconds to set the bucket down and pick it up again with a firmer grip.

It seemed like an eternity, but it had been no more than five or ten minutes when he reached the house again. Even the cold within the house seemed oddly pleasant at that point. The house was thankfully small, and so the remaining walk to the living room was only but so far.

A fire from the previous night was dying. Allen sighed, setting down the water and instead picked up the soot-cloaked poker, nudging the remaining coals closer together, blowing on them softly. He pulled some bark off several bits of wood on a nearby stack. They soon caught and flames once again sparked in the fireplace. Gradually, he worked from the small pieces of bark and kindling to larger sticks and finally to actual pieces of chopped wood. They were cut with angles, making them easier to stack and hold.

When the fire was finally blazing fully, the room began to warm again, the smoke going up the chimney relatively well, but Allen pushed back the blaze as far as he could, just in hopes of not suffocating the house with the smoke.

His arms shook in slowly appearing strain as he lifted the water to try and poor it into the large black kettle above the now-roaring fire. He tried his best not to spill any, in fear of extinguishing the blaze, but some did splash over the edge, making the fire crackle and hiss while sending up sparks and steam, choking him and trying to dare him to step back and spill it all in the process.

It took almost everything he had to stand there, in front of a spitting fire and pouring water into it. He was relieved when the water bucket was finally empty and he was able to stumble backwards, accidentally tripping on something on the floor.

His balance, carefully maintained for so long, vanished in an instant, and he fell onto a chair. Thank God he hadn't fallen onto the floor and woken the house up. He lay there, panting softly, head lolling against the hard headboard of wood, trying to find feeling in his arms and legs again. The fire's heat had filled the room by the time he managed to stand again, making the cold as he opened the door to drop the bucket outside again even more unbearable.

It was so wonderfully warm in the room. The left side of his face had stopped tingling and actually felt about as normal as it ever would, except for the stick that still remained from dried tears.

A soft cloth lay nearby him, the fabric's stitches sewn so expertly they might've been by those French machines, though somehow, it looked hand sewn. He picked it up, careful to avoid pulling any of the seams, out of respect for Moa's property. The water was very warm at that point, steam rising off it in wavy columns.

The hot water seemed to burn into his skin, but for once, not a completely unpleasant burning... He rolled it over both sides of his face, trying to get rid of the horrible sticky, clammy feeling on his face. It left slowly, leaving behind the smears of frigid cold of hot water cooling down. Though the room was warmer, the remaining cold attacked his cooling skin brutally. He whined as he rolled the wet cloth— now also turning cold— over the malformed skin again.

"Beansprout?"

Allen spun around, his arms shaking from the reaction to the unpleasance in his face. He turned, only to see Kanda recoil at the macabre his face had turned in to only a month earlier. Oh, that was right. Kanda and Lenalee and Lavi hadn't seen him yet, despite being with him for so long afterwards. They had only gotten seen when they first came to Moa's house and afterwards, gotten him a mask. They had been too panicked to see, most likely.

Johnny was the only one who had seen. He was a scientist, and he had to paint the mask. He was the only one who had seen the complete horror of him.

So he turned quickly, hurting his neck again. He winced in the pain a and gripped the back of his neck with his right hand. He cursed himself for ever taking off that mask and glove. "Dammit, 'Sprout... what the hell are you doing up at this hour?" The voice behind him hissed. Allen swallowed hard, hoping that maybe Kanda would forgive his face. If he could, then maybe there was hope?

"I-I was... washing..." Allen answered truthfully.

"In this cold?" Kanda barked softly, if that made any sense. Then again, it was very early, and no one would being awoken at this hour. "You'll catch something!"

Allen nodded stiffly. He was born and raised in Britain, he knew well the risks of cold. He soaked the cloth in the hot water once more and began to wash his face again, hoping Kanda would just leave. The dark presence behind him stayed fixedly. 'Allen, he's not going to leave...' Damian whispered in his ear, figuratively, of course.

"W-what do you want, Kanda?" He asked, bowing to the silent demands radiating from the focused Japanese man.

"Turn around, Beansprout," Kanda said coolly. Allen could just imagine his friend, strong, beautiful, graceful, stoic, everything Allen could never hope to be. He envied Kanda, being so strong and effortlessly powerful. Never caring about anything unless the situation called for it. Was that what he was doing now?

Slowly, Allen did turn around, still holding the cloth on the left side of his face, pretending to still be washing. The cloth soon grew cold and almost painful on his face and in his grasp, but he did take it away from his face nor slow the scratching movement over the tender skin. Too fearful. "Take the rag down, Beansprout," Allen's hands held it firmly on his face. "Take it down," Kanda hissed, his voice dropping lower. Allen took in a rattling breath but didn't move his hands.

"Beansprout," Kanda advanced. Whether intentional or not, he scared Allen. More than normal fear. More than anything. It was revived trauma. It was the faces of all the soldiers who touched him in Central. It was the look of all the people he had hurt when insane. It was the face of the people whom scared him most of all. It was the face of a person who would stop at nothing to do something.

Allen felt tremors run through his body as the beating of his heart suddenly became unbearably loud, shaking the world, knocking him off balance as Kanda came closer. The world lost it's color as the samuri morphed into the nameless faces that had tortured him the past two years. The six months of hell before he lost. Completely.

The floor felt harder, like the metal. Like the iron. The black, black iron. It was a different kind of pain that rocketed through him in the moment his head collided with the wood. His hands trembled. That was the only thing he knew other than the impossibly loud heartbeat. The voices were mushed and slurred.

God, he thought he was going to die as the arms circled around him and dragged him to his feet.

He didn't realize how much more careful the guard was this time. It didn't matter much, it just meant he had to be in good condition for whatever they were going to do to him. Whatever hell they had today. What had it been yesterday? Why was he asking that? Yesterday was weeks ago. Time didn't matter, it was all slurred together, painfully fast heartbeats accelerating his life. Speeding the precious few years he had left.

"Beansprout!"

His lungs reactivated. Everything snapped back into focus, real focus, not the old. Not the mix of images and colors and emotions that his mind had mostly blocked out, but not enough to keep them out. He was lain out on a piece of furniture, in Moa's house. Kanda was leaning over him with probably the most worried look he would ever get out of him.

And then the older male sighed. "Damn, they really messed you up, didn't they?" He asked. Allen didn't reply. His expression did enough. The half-opened, glazed over look. He couldn't move again. He couldn't even twitch his finger if he wanted to. He was so tired, too tired for that.

Kanda was staring right at his face, the left side. That was the only thing that kept him still clinging to consciousness. The look of absolute horror that had replaced his worried expression so instantly. So suddenly. "God damn..." Kanda muttered. "Now I know why Johnny cried after seeing your face the first time..."

Before Kanda even realized he had said it out loud, Allen had taken the sentence and warped it into his own meaning. His own reason of what it meant. His eyes began to heat again, but he couldn't let it happen. He couldn't cry again. He was getting too weak, he couldn't cry again. Boys his age weren't supposed to cry...

Johnny hated him! Hated his face, his horror show that he wore on his sleeves! Hated the scaly, withered and burnt flesh of his arm and the painted, twisted, swollen face. The ugly things he had seen and done and been though— Johnny was in the science section after all! He probably had access to all of the records Levirrier decided to put out about him to the Order.

The way he reacted to the experiments, the way he had tried to kill so many guards in every escape plan. Johnny would know every horrible, brutal thing that Allen had done in central... and he could forgive him as long as he had forgotten everything... but now...

Now he had turned into something that reflected the sins he had committed, the acts against nature and the natural way. Everything bad had come back to him and twisted his arm and face into a reflection of those things. Those freakish, demented things he had done in absolute rages and when in his right mind...

He really was a monster. Just like the guards had said. He made his friend cry...

There was only one thing to do then...

And so Allen cried as Kanda stared in horror, not understanding until it was too late— Allen had fallen asleep crying again. He didn't realize how to explain what he meant until it was just too late to try.


	5. Them

**I'm sorry, I've been outside ing 40 degree weather from 9:30 to 3:00 and I'm not in the best of moods....**

**CURSE YOU WRITERS BLOCK AND ALL THAT WHICH YOU DO TO MAKE ME SUFFER! **

**I told someone I was going to update on Wednesday..... and Tuseday night writers block hit hard **

**5 pages... I was going to add more onto Allen's side in this chapter, but that didn't happen because of the _STUPID WRITERS BLOCK! _-calms down- So that's going to be in the next chapter. And you have a brief mention of a guy called Trent in the last scene.... yeah, well... he's one of my OCs for an original story I had planned, but... I loved him too much to keep out -.-' he wont be a major character, don't worry, but he's going to have to appear here and there, for the sake of oppositely-biased exorcists...**

**disclaimer: ...shut up =.=" **

Allen didn't know what time it was when he woke up again in the morning. It wasn't as cold anymore, it was bearable, actually, abet a slight bit difficult to breath. He recognized the light but prominent smell hanging around in the air as wood smoke. The moment his brain, which was once again operating incredibly slowly, was able to register exactly what the smell was, he began to cough.

He covered his mouth with his right hand, the left gripping the sheets of his bed tightly. The sheets slowly rose back up Allen's cooling body as he continued to cough harshly into his hand, and soon, the blanket as well. His throat seemed to come out of him as he coughed, or at least flake out of him. Then again, this was how every cough was, right?

He coughed again, even harsher than before, like his lungs were scolding him for that.

His eyes started tearing up as he clasped his hand firmly over his mouth and forced himself to stop. The feeling of a feather duster being shoved down his throat greeted him at this attempt. Keeping his mouth firmly shut, he tried to slither out of the bed, crawling over to a window and prying it open. It was difficult, his muscles being worn out and the window being old and not having moved for very long.

Actually, it was much easier than he would have thought at first. It flew open as he pushed upward as hard as he could and thrust his neck out. His cough slowly got batter in the clear air, flooding through his lungs with a furious coldness, but it felt incredibly good on his sore throat. Like when Lavi had poured the cold water over his burns.

The cold air soon registered on his skin, very soon after he had finally cleared his lungs of the smog. He pulled himself back into the house slowly, the cold numbing his muscles and making it difficult to move again.

"_Kanda, you're hopeless, you're smoking up the whole house! I'm amazed you even got the fire going..."_

"_I told you, the beansprout woke up at four in the frickin' morning and made a fire."_

"_Allen can barely move around right now, and I'd think it would be slightly odd if Allen actually started a fire after everything that happened back ho— at the Order."_

"_Che, fine, don't believe me, but the kid fell asleep crying when I was in the room."_

"_..You didn't do anything to him, did you, Kanda?"_

"_See? You believe me."_

"_Benefit of the doubt. Answer the question."_

"_..No, I didn't do anything."_

"_Fine, now go get some sleep... God, Kanda, you burnt yourself?"_

"_It's fine."  
_

"_No it's not! Go run cold water over it and bandage it up right now!"_

Allen groaned as he slammed the window back down and fell backwards discordinatedly sprawling onto the bed, which despite being small, was roughly about twice his size, perhaps a little smaller. His arms warmed up quickly against the top quilt comforter. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in that warm bed again and just let his aching muscles repair themselves again. It would take a while, but someday, he would be over all this...

At least he truly hoped so. The back of his head still hurt from where he had fallen against the floor some hours earlier. His legs had bruises finally appearing from falling over so often while outside the day before. His arms ached from carrying the water, and everywhere ached from the still healing burns. It was nearing the end of October and All Hallows and All Saints were coming up quickly.

They must have had barely a week before November was going to set in. All the days seemed to go by at a crawl, though, no matter how little time they had to get out of Moa's house and stop endangering her and her town.

He slid to the floor and tried to orient himself correctly. He held onto the window sil as he pulled himself up and back onto his feet. His boots had been removed at some point. He couldn't remember exactly when, though. He had woken up last time with them on, right? He groaned. His mind was too far gone this morning.

He wanted to be able to think. He wanted to be hugged. He wanted to be able to rant without hurting anyone. He wanted a nice, quiet place without Lenalee scolding Kanda in the background.

"_Kanda, just hold out your hand, it will only twinge a bit at first—"_

_  
"I don't care, I don't trust anything about that cream stuff, now let me go!"_

"_Kanda, just do it already. It'll protect the burn and slow down the swelling. Lavi made it, you know you can trust his medicine."_

"_Stop talking to me like I'm a misbehaving four-year-old!"_

"_But you're acting like a misbehaving four-year-old!"_

"No I am not!"

Allen picked up the coat at the foot of the bed and fingered around through it until he found the hood and sleeves. Slipping it on much easier than most anything he had done lately, he looked for his boots and found them shoved roughly under the bed. He felt like he looked for once— older— as he had difficulty having his back anchor him up.

There was a strong pull at the hood of his jacket, pulling him up easily. The fabric pressed against the bandages on his neck, but it wasn't painful, just discomfort for once. He threw his right arm out to try and balance against the wall after the sudden movement.

"T-Tim?" He stuttered out, seeing the little golden ball fluttering worriedly in front of him. He laughed wearily, the sound sounding somewhat strange to him. Man, how long had it been since he last laughed? "Tim, I havent seen you in a while, where've you been?"

Tim bobbed and whirled around his head, 'speaking' much too quickly for Allen to understand. "Okay then," Allen muttered. "I'll take your word for it..." He turned his head to look out thee window again. He could only guess Tim had been outside and come in only when he had opened the window.

The ball vanished and reappeared with his mask. Allen blinked in suprise before realizing he had not been wearing it. He grimaced and pressed it against his face until there was a slight clicking sound before taking his hand away.

His legs protested with sharp bolts of pain as he walked as quietly as he could out of his room, ghosting outside the hallway and to the closest door to him, the farthest away from Lenalee and Kanda. He looked for Moa... not that he had any particular reason to, he just wanted to see her. Moa was the only one who couldn't hate him in this situation... because she was the only one who didn't know anything, so he could pour his heart out as he wanted to, not having to justify anything...

His knees buckled momentarily as he tripped over a raised floorboard. He caught himself on the wall. Groaning, trying to straighten his knees again. He wondered faintly if he should really be moving as much as he was.

He shook his head slowly. He had to walk right then. Standing still might just drive him insane, especially in that annoying small room.

That small, dark place.

His stomach began to churn. Allen's hand flew to his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the images that wanted desperately to creep into him again. Images of a small, dark space that he spent six months in before snapping and—

"_Allen?" _

_God dammit, Damian, weren't you supposed to be asleep? _Allen gaged as heat assaulted his throat from the inside.

He dashed down the hallways as quickly as he could, finding it impossible to ignore the way it made his stomach even more worked up. He turned sharply to where he remembered the door to be and collapsed in the brush, his stomach finally winning.

He gasped out the chunks of half digested food, the bile dripping out of his mouth, even after his stomach's convulsion had halted. The bushes hid him mostly from view, but they couldn't halt sound. He hoped no one had heard him, puking his guts out. He wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve, shuddering, realizing exactly how cold it was now that he was outside entirely.

His sleeve turned a slight shade of yellow near the cuffs from the bile and remaining food and drink that had splattered his face. His mind was waterlogged and legs uneasy after his stomach's harsh attack on all in him.

'_No one heard you, Allen'_ Damian whispered to him. Allen thought he felt a hand rub his back gently and started to breath easier. '_It's Sunday, everyone's in church or in their houses,_' Allen nodded slowly. Then Moa was probably at her church as well. Screw the idea of pouring his heart out with an unbiased person.

He rolled over, trying to righten himself again and avoid falling into his throw up with his steadily tiring arms. He groaned.

000

Miranda stared at her wrist curiously, and at the dark blue strap that Komui had just slid onto her wrist. It was skin tight, so how he had gotten it to slip over her hand and yet have it remain fitted to her slim wrist was a mystery to her. When Komui released her hand, she brought it closer to her face and fingered the strap, noticing that it was not moving from the place Komui had released it at on her wrist.

"Komui, what is this?" She asked softly, seeing Marv and Rob putting one of Timothy, the youngest exorcist, who had returned from a mission barely a week ago with a new exorcist called Trent. Trent was a bit farther away, several shaky scientists trying to put one on him as he stared at them in slight disbelief.

Komui frowned, and for a moment, Miranda was terrified that she had said something wrong. Then, Komui took her hand again and patted it softly, like in apology. "Central has decided. All exorcists must wear these. They're trackers," He muttered darkly.

"What?" Miranda cried. "Why?"

"It's because of them," Komui sighed. Miranda blinked in suprise.

"You mean A—" Komui covered her mouth with his hand before she could get another syllable out.

"Central has forbidden to use their names," He explained. "After today, it's taboo," Miranda's eyes widened for an instant, but she nodded. Komui lowered his hand. "Miranda, please stay out of trouble..." He whispered. "Things are going to change and it wont be pleasant most of the time..."

Miranda nodded, her lower lip trembling. Komui was afraid for a moment that she was going to burst into tears. But she didn't. Miranda took a deep breath and stared hard at Komui. "We'll be okay, Komui," She whispered. "A— _They_," She amended quickly, "..I know that they're going to do somethng..." She muttered quietly. "They wont abandon us."

Komui looked down at his feet. "I know, Miranda," He said. "Thank you."

Miranda nodded slowly the thank you echoing in her head as the first one she had ever gotten had. The face of a smiling boy passed through her mind as she walked out of the room where Komui was now attaching a tracker onto Marie. She swallowed nervously. She might not be the most self-assured exorcist, though she had long gotten over her self-destructive tendencies, but she knew...

She just knew...

There was no way those five would ever forget their comrades in the Order.


	6. Zinnia, Red

**Curse you school and writers block, CURSE YOU!! Really guys, don't murder me for how late this is, I _know _how late this is... and with Hoshino-dono in the hospital, there really isn't much motivation to keep me going... **

**At least this one's longer than the other ones, right? But really... it was hell, cuz I was literally forcing myself through the writers block, my computer thinks it's funny to kill OpenOffice when I'm in the middle of writing, and school loads down all the projects at once. _All of them!!_**

**Well... you all don't come here to listen to my rants, so we're trying to get to the story soon now... but because I know people will ask, the image of Allen being lead around town by a little girl was just too good xD Oh... and just for people who're curious...**

**daisy – innocence (one of the more commonly known plant meanings)  
****zinnia – thoughts of friends  
****scarlet zinnia – constancy **

**...this might make me look really stupid, but scarlet _does _mean red... right? Am I right? 0.0'**

**disclaimer: Seeing as we have similar updating schedules, I fought to upload this just to see if maybe I really _am _Hoshino-dono... or if I at least affect the uploading...**

Allen had to admit, the town had either grown or shrunk as the time had passed since he visited before. He didn't remember it having so many buildings and stands, but he also seemed to remember that there had been more people before. He decided, as he walked down the quiet, almost empty streets, that for one, he hadn't even seen most of the town all that time ago, and for another, it had not been Sunday. He had only stayed in town for a few hours at most; there was no chance he had actually seen the town as it truly was.

There were a few stalls here and there around the road, most with their wares covered up or missing, so as to prevent theft. He smiled softly. With Moa on the job, he was pretty sure that there wasn't much that really did get stolen, or maybe he was just over-bloating Moa's skill as a police officer because he knew her.

The sun was up and had been for quite some time, as far as he could tell. There were few clouds in the sky that he could see this morning in particular. The sky was always clearer around this time of year. It was cold outside, but the sun was still warm and welcome on his skin, what little of it he was able to show. Even when he was out here, he still felt like he was missing the sun.

The bright beautiful sun that meant that they weren't—

He breathed in quickly. Not here, not in the middle of a street where a person could easily walk out and see him withering. He had so much dignity left, after being walked over for a year and longer, to not rashly display suffering to anyone. He had enough dignity left to keep his horrors behind a closed door and not drag anyone down with them. Hide them with his newest mask.

He stopped and leaned on the nearest support he had, which happened to be the outside wall of a building. The wood's unsanded edges were rugged through his coat, even when being rounded over by thin coats of paint, but he ignored it and looked up. Up into the sky where it was still light out, trying to make sure to remember to breath.

_In and out, Allen,_ he reminded himself,_ in and out. You're in a completely different city. Halfway around the world. They don't know where you are. _He welded himself to that thought. _They don't know where you are. You closed the gate before they could follow. _He pushed back anything of the thoughts that told him he was wrong. That they knew where he was and that they could come for him at any time. That they were going to finally give up on him and tradition and grand executions. That this time they would kill on sight...

_'Lenalee, Lavi, Kanda and Johnny are with you, Allen,' _The soft other in his mind whispered. Allen nodded slowly, the knot in his lungs untwisting slowly as he began to finally breath not as heavily again.

He pushed himself fully upright again and stumbled a bit farther down the streets. His legs felt stiff and uncomfortable to the point of pain as he kept moving. Forward, back, up, down the street. He cursed himself and the bad joke of his sense of direction.

"Mister, are you okay?" Allen tensed up at the unfamiliar voice behind him, thinking of an Akuma or more horribly, a Noah. As he was, he doubted he could even defend himself from a normal human. He turned as quickly as he could without hurting himself to look around to where the voice had come from.

It was a young girl, maybe barely ten. Her wide blue eyes and the darker brown hair that made her look a bit like Moa. Allen blinked. He hadn't expected a little girl. His eye did not activate. There was no feeling of kinship. She was not a Noah or Akuma...

"Mister?" She said again, fidgeting with the basket of flowers she clutched tightly between her two small hands. She was short, her hair pulled into a low, loose pony tail and her skirt was a bright color of blue and gold. "Are you okay?"

Allen came to his senses after a moment of taking in the girl. "Uh— y-yeah, I'm fine," He muttered. The girl nodded.

"You're limpin', though," She said, her voice high and innocent of the horrors of the world, most of which the older boy—actually a young adult— before her had experienced firsthand. He looked down, making sure he hadn't opened a scabbed over wound in his walking, about which he was still wondering if it was not a bit foolish. "Is there somethin' wrong with your legs?" She asked. The boy let out a weak laugh.

"Yes, my legs arent very strong," He told her. She nodded again, looking around.

"Where are you goin'?" She asked. "Everyone's at church, no one's out."

"I know, I was thinking I could walk around without anyone staring," He said, "And maybe see one of my friends at the church..." His voice left him slowly, letting him go quiet as he spoke.

"Why don't you want people to not look at you?" She asked. The boy looked down, like he was wondering out to answer this exactly.

"I.. am not the sort of person most people want to be bothered with..."

The little girl frowned at Allen's answer. "You're not botherin' me... am I botherin' you?" She asked. Allen blinked and shook his head. She smiled widely the way only a little girl could, showing all of her teeth, some of which were slightly an odd color, some chipped and a few having fallen out. "Good!" She declared. "'Cause I like you."

Allen laughed and made a move to keep walking, only to have the little girl run in front of him, making it quite clear he was not to be allowed passage. Or maybe it was instinct as her eyes widened and cheeks colored pinker then was usual for girls. "Um... your legs are bad, right?" She asked, snapping out of her embarrassed stupor at a pace Allen could only dream of. He nodded dumbly. "So can I help you get wherever you're going, Mister?"

Allen was rather surprised to say nothing of it. "I.. uh..." He began, "...sure..." She smiled again and turned on her heel, rather large brown ones at that, and grabbed onto his nearest hand, which happened to be his left one, and pulled him down the streets.

"Hey, Mister," She said again. Allen wondered vaguely how she had learned to speak English, especially so fluently. "Why d'you have a mask on?" She asked, the bright blue eyes focusing on the mask on the left side of his face.

"Uh..." Allen was doing badly, he knew it, but how do you exactly talk to a little girl about things that were surely the bane of the, and her, world? "I don't... I mean..." She kept staring at him, but now more focused on his revealed eye than his mask. Allen had a short mental debate and went with his backup that sounded something like he was a bossy older brother. "None of your business," He said quickly. She snorted and pouted, looking rather put out, but muttered a soft 'fine' and kept tugging on his left arm.

He jump as she held onto his arm, tightly, more so than the arm was used to at that point. He held himself stiff, trying to resist the overwhelming urge to rip his arm out of her grip and run as fast as he could the other direction. Allen opened his mouth, trying to breath in more air, as much air as he could. Stop his heart which had just jumped into overdrive. Calm down. It was a little girl.

A little girl that looked so happy and smily a moment later, completely forgetting his rejection to answer her question. Allen let out a long breath of what he though was... relief? Content? Was some part of him remembering when he was just as happy? His heart gradually slowed as she led him along, maybe pulling gentler. Maybe she noticed something.

"Mister, are you in love with someone?" She asked. Allen snorted and laughed at the oblivious way she punted the question out of her mind. Okay, so maybe she _hadn't _noticed anything.

"Not just yet," He said, continuing to laugh for another minute or so. The little girl just looked at him as another fit of giggles hit him as his mind kept reshowing her face after his answer like a slide show, and each time it wasn't any less funny.

"Oh..." She said, ignoring the laughter of the boy with weak legs behind her as best she could. "Okay."

She kept walking, leading the boy down the streets to the nearest, largest, and admittedly only church in the whole town... except for the cursed one farther away, but years ago, just a few, an entire police force had been murdered in it. The only survivor, a female officer, had simply told the public not to go in it anymore and that whatever it was would not be coming out again.

The street gradually grew widen and more cluttered with carts and wagons. Horses and ponies stood tied to their posts and stagecoaches were under rooves, splattered with mud from wherever their trip may have taken them, most likely to be cleaned off later that day.

And yet there were very few people who were outdoors. He glimpsed several people, usually couples or naughty children, indoors or dashing through the streets briefly, but only just briefly before hiding in alleys or haystacks or opening doors, celler or front, to enter their houses. No one was usually on the streets on the Sabbath. They were either in church in a formal service or worshiping at home, he supposed. It was Germany. He wasn't quite sure if the laws on religion were as strict here as they had been in Britain or whether it was just another religion.

"Why are you out here if everyone else is in church?" He asked. The little girl turned and blinked up at him. She held up the basket of flowers with her free hand, the other still tightly clutching onto his left arm, though he didn't panic at it as much as he had several minutes ago.

"Me mamma and I moved here from Englan' a bitta ago. She told me to sell flowers to people after church t'day," In the back of Allen's mind, something went _'oh'_, and he supposed that was probably why she could also speak English. Allen was mildly horrified as he strained a bit to recognize his own— almost his original— accent. She looked down at the flowers for a moment before looking back up at Allen and smiling widely. "D'ya wanna buy one, Mister?" She asked, stopping in the street and letting go of his hand.

She pulled out a flower from her basket, a white one. A daisy. "It'll match your hair!" Allen took a moment to remember he hadn't worn his hood up since he hadn't expected to meet anyone. It took another to realize that the little girl hadn't been put off by his hair color at all.

He reached into his pocket slowly and searched around for some coins, pulling up a small handful that totaled just a few marks. "Is this enough?" He asked, bending down onto his kees to her level. Her eyes widened and she also pulled out another flower, a brilliantly red zinnia.

"Now it is!" She exclaimed, holding out the flowers as she took the money from his hand. Allen smiled as she gave him the flowers. He was no flower expert, but he liked these two. He didn't know what they meant. He only really even knew what the daisy was called, he had no clue of the other flower. But he liked them.

He moved to get up from his kneeling position, only to realize that his legs had frozen in the awkward position. "Uh..." The little girl turned around again, as she had just been about to carry on down the street with him. She looked confused as to why he wasn't getting up. "C-can you give me a hand?" He asked, his face coloring faintly. She nodded and took a hold of his right hand, which was not holding the flowers, and pulled until he leaned forward and managed to push himself up somehow.

He stumbled the first few steps once back on his feet, dispersing the momentum. "T-thanks," He muttered softly, still trying to get over the fact that he had just been reduced to asking a little girl for aid in standing.

"...Mister?" Allen turned as best he could without losing his balance again. "Why are your legs bad?"

His chest clenched.

Why indeed...

"I..." He began, his mouth suddenly very dry. Was he supposed to lie? Improvise? Was he supposed to tell relatively the truth? Was he supposed to horrify her with the deranged parts of the world or was he supposed to protect her from that knowledge? Was keeping her so young and happy worth it or was it better to warn her now? Should he trust a little girl with something he had been hoping to confide in an adult? How did he even know that she was going to be able to keep anything he told her a secret?

A thousand sinareos bombarded him in an instant. The worst attacking him instantly, throwing themselves into his face and telling him that they were most likely of all of them. The Order finding the village and searching for anyone who might know him. They would show photos of him with the bandages on, most likely, all around town. She would say something and be interrogated. The Noahs would come. Road would scan for anyone who knew about the exorcists, or maybe one of the Noahs could look into a person's mind.

What if Akuma attacked? What if one of them found this little girl? Moa would try to protect everyone and maybe call the Order for help. They would ask questions to how she knew about them. He would put innocent people in danger by telling the truth or relying on them. He was putting Moa in danger, he was putting Lenalee and Lavi and Kanda in danger. He was putting this girl, who wasn't even ten and didn't even know his name, in danger. He was putting her mother and her friends and this entire town in danger by just resting there. By being just enough to exist.

"I was born deformed."

The little girl blinked, her mouth opening slightly as she understood. "You're crippled?" She asked softly. He nodded slowly. "Oh..." She looked down, away from the older, crippled boy. She knew that cripples were taunted and mocked and pitied most of the time. Not many lived very long. The boy didn't look very healthy at all, either. "I'm sorry..."

"It's fine," Was her only strained reply.

She felt guilty for asking a question like that. One with an answer that was one of the worst things to admit.

Slowly, she walked up to the boy's side again, taking a hold of his wrist this time. He twitched as she closed her smaller hand around the thin strip of skin and bone. She looked up at him with a shy little smile and he just looked down at her, confused. "You're going to the church, right?" She asked. The boy nodded slowly again. "This way!" She said happily, pulling him along more gently than she had before.

Until before them was the stained glass windows and long stone supports and walls of _Der Dom_

"You should go home soon," Allen told her. "I wont be here long, probably," She looked down dejectedly. He ruffled her hair carefully with his left hand, which had only for several moments been free of her grip.

"Who's going to help you get back?" The little girl asked stubbornly. Allen shrugged lightly, ignoring the sting in his shoulders and collar as he did so.

"I'll get back," He said. "I don't want to cause you any trouble," She look down at the dirty streets they had been walking on for half an hour at least. Maybe she was still feeling guilty for asking about his legs... Or maybe she was the clingy sort who hated saying 'goodbye', even if they hardly knew the other person.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Allen smiled down at her with half his face. "You just make sure you get back to your momma before dark, okay?" She nodded, sticking her lips out in a pout that only little children could effectively pull off. Allen thought for a moment. He didn't really want to send the little girl away just like that. He didn't know how to ask her to stay or how he would explain to anyone that she had been nice... but he didn't know how to feel alright about having her leave and knowing she would never see him again.

Damn you fast attachments...

The little girl began backing up, walking away, and Allen had the gut feeling that screamed at him '_you have to say something else!' _though it seemed to forget that he was lacking in communications at that time and hadn't given him any suggestions whatsoever.

"T-thanks for the flowers!" He called. He saw her turn around and look back at him, blue eyes wide and surprised for a moment before her face broke out into a smile so wide he thought her face would split in half.

"Bye bye, Mister!" She called, waving. Allen waved back carefully, left hand still holding the flowers carefully in his tired, aching fingers.

She seemed to vanish between the buildings and streets of her new home. Allen's right hand fell down to his side again and he backed up into one of the _Der Dum_'s stone walls before sliding down onto the stairs that led up to the oakwood doors.

He might have drifted off for a moment, everything in the street seemingly so much quieter without the little girl's questions and chatter. There seemed like no time between when he slid his head into his arms and when he woke up to a blurry but dazzlingly bright green eye.

"Allen?" A shy hand was rested on his shoulder, causing a small twinge of pain to feed into his neck.

"'Avi...?" His eyes fluttered open weakly. "Whar' 'ou d'ng her'?" He asked drunkenly, not even halfway awake. Lavi's face was a blurred mass of color, muddling in with his black headband, red hair and green eye, all about ten different shades respectively. It looked like a poorly done watercolor.

"Looking for you," Lavi sighed. "You vanished and didn't tell us where you went. We got nervous," Allen groaned and mumbled something incoherent, but Lavi managed to translate it into a 'sorry'. "It's fine," He said, in a startlingly similar way to how he had dismissed the girl's apology.

"Why do you have flowers?" Allen tried to open his eyes again, a bit more effectively than the time before. He started seeing more details. He separated Lavi's hair from his headband and his eye from his skin. His head lolled to the side, giving him a view of the red and white flowers lying next to him on the dark stone steps, their petals slowly growing clearer to him.

"Summun... gav' 'm t'me..." The debate to tell Lavi about the little girl was over in a second.

"...Okay..." He heard Lavi sigh, as though unsure of what to do now with a boy half-dead from fatigue and almost crippled. Allen's gut felt like it had received a hard punch as he knew that was really his own fault. "Do you want me to get ya back to Moa's house?" He asked, lightly shaking the hand still on Allen's shoulder.

Allen grunted in neither agreement or refusal as Lavi carefully pulled Allen's smaller, starved body onto his back. "Hold on," He slipped the flowers into Allen's slacked left hand before winding the thin arms around his neck, hoping it would help Allen stay on better.

"Dont scare us like that," Lavi muttered as he began to walk down the streets.

"Sorry," Allen mumbled into the muffling fabric of Lavi's jacket.

Lavi sighed. "It's fine... just trust us a bit more, okay?" Allen let out a confused groan, slipping out of consciousness again. He really must have gotten tired coming us there. "We weren't going to stop you if you wanted to go out," He said. "Just... don't make us worry so much, okay? Lenalee was panicking when she saw you weren't in the house..."

Allen's eyes drooped closer and closer to shutting again, but a dark cloud had added again to his mind.

"_'M sorry..._"


	7. Starting Lying

**So tired... so thirsty... and I got sick (AGAIN!) The moment I stepped out of school for spring break, I got _another _cold. Today was the first day back. And I'm already staying up too late for a school night... blarg... soo sleepy...**

**Long awaited next chapter of Found (I'm sorry, I got writers block for Krory AND Lenalee this time... aargh...) **

**Trying to enter the Oberon's Garden OCT... will probably fail... Birthday's coming up, along with LoT's final round... DGM is finally back, and DP is Pepper-Hot (I hate my puns), and the Wld Geo project I forgot about/didnt know I had has a rough draft due on Friday. It was below 0 this past week. Everything happens in march...**

**This chapter's where the plot starts to actually kick in a little... we're currently at the end of October, probably around Oct 27/28****th**** and Allen's still kicking himself. He'll be kicking himself for a while. **

**Next update is DC (hopefully) and Black Cat (manga/anime) and TWEWY (video game) are new distractions until then, go check them out while you're waiting for me!**

**Disclaimer: I don't even know what to say now, shut up!!**

Krory flipped through a book he had pulled out of the library at random. The Order's library was indeed huge, but it had few of the books he would typically enjoy reading. It was filled with technical manuals, books on mythology and the most obscene legends. Bits and pieces were about the majority of countries and language, customs and some of the most annoying books on some of the most disgusting food and table etiquette. On the occasion, he would find a book on his beloved plants, but they were few and far between.

And the religion books. Oh, Lord, _the religion books_. Ever since Allen—ahem, the _traitor—_had fled the Order with three 'veteran' exorcists and a 'highly informed' scientist, books on everything in the catholic religion had been flooded into the library, swarming every shelf while all the books on contradicting beliefs, excluding those in PR, had been hastily removed from the library. It was pathetic how the Order had tried so hard to cover their tracks in such a mess they had made.

Biting his lip with a fanged tooth, he truly did hope that those brats had gotten away safely, with everyone in one piece. Allen would be able to pull through whatever they had thrown at him in Central, he was sure. Allen was the strongest willed of all of them, had always been, would certainly always be. He had no doubt that at this moment, Allen was making his recovery; maybe slowly, but surely he would be better than he ever had been before. He was the leader of the brats, after all.

They _were_ brats, after all.

While in his darker, Akuma hunting craze, Krory would think of those boys and Lenalee as nothing more than brats, and somewhere along the line, the word had worked his way into his usual speech and thoughts. As for Johnny... 'highly informed' scientist, as he was, was so jittery and panicked in some situations that it was frankly funny. Johnny was a good brat, though. Everyone knew that much.

He sighed, turning a page in he dusty old book he had been attempting, and honestly failing, to read the past hour. The ink was faded and the print was small, the pages old and wrinkled, some torn and falling out. The subject was most uninteresting, and quite frankly, reading about what the old schoolers learned when cutting people open was, in a word, _disgusting._

He opened his mouth and gaped in horror at what had once been an intricate and informative ink drawing before closing the book, dropping it on the table and walking away from the vile thing as quickly as he could.

The bracelet clutched around his skin as he tried to make a fist to distract himself. Krory moped a moment. The wrist trackers were so _annoying_. They relayed your every position and word to who knew where. Central, most likely, but with all the new science departments shifting around it was a pain to not know who exactly you could trust and who you could trust would be leaving.

He sighed, staring at the thin blue handcuff that might one day be their undoing. One day be the day that he or one of his friends slipped up and said something about the brats. Something Central didn't want to be said. Something that might— oh the horror— _support them _and their running away, s_upport _Allen not getting burned and mauled by the people he had lived for, or _heaven forbid_, they might _defend _the brats with talk of some of the many _great battles _they had won for this Order! The Ark! The Level Four! And those after Allen's kidnapping, the Bridge, the _Queen's Castle? _They, Krory included, had been sent on an almost-_suicide mission _to defend Queen Victoria of England for a month and the Noahs had arrived by the end of it all! Oh, the _hell _of covering that one up!

And why only the exorcists? Why was it only them who were thought to be likely to run from the Order and track down the brats? If it was as simple as that, Krory had no doubt the Order would have already found them and skinned them alive. He clutched his fist even tighter, his veins sticking out in his pale, clawed hands.

About that time, Miranda shakily walked through the large doors of the library, which in five hours would be closed and locked for the night, around the time of eleven. A young redhead with his hair pulled into two long and low tails, a black band across his forehead trailing behind her calmly, his arms behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling boredly. Unlike Krory, Timothy had only needed a week to get over the Order's size, and he was from a dirt pour orphanage. Krory had spent a month or two getting over the general vastness of the place, and he had lived in a castle his entire life.

Krory averted his eyes from Timothy. The black headband concealing his weapon and the shocking red hair made him look far too much like a certain older _brat _that Krory held dear to his heart.

He treasured Allen for helping him recover from his depression, but it was Lavi who had been with him and first convinced him of the truth. It was unfair to value Lavi over Allen as Allen had been recovering in Asia branch, but he had spent more time with Lavi.

It was still unfair. Krory felt guilty about loving one of his saviors over the other, when really he should have felt more kin to Allen than anyone else. Allen who was a parasitic, Allen who was oppressed, Allen who had a darker side, Allen who got twice as many strange looks as Krory did... It was just slightly sad that he valued the other, unlike, redheaded exorcist.

Krory sighed. What was he thinking? He missed all of them.

But then...

What were they supposed to do? It would be heresy of comrades' bond to try and bring them back. Not to this place... Home...

Not one of them would ever do that to the five who had been all of their shining lights.

The five who would dim, but never go out.

000

The day couldn't decide if it wanted to be warm or cold. If Allen sat in the direct line of sunlight, it was warm enough to just barely be comfortable, but when the slightest breeze came along, it all turned cold. Allen wasn't sure why he had even wanted to come out today when the temperature changed every few seconds, he only really knew he didn't want to be in the house, where the air was so stale and painful in his throat.

He had given up talking for a while until he could feel better, and still, it felt like someone was dragging a cleaver over the inside of his throat. But...

But...

But a part of him was so glad to have this excuse from having to engage in conversation. So glad to have a way to back out gracefully whenever someone asked him a question. He was _trying_, honestly he was! It was just... difficult...

_Survive._

He shuddered as another wind cascaded through the backdrop of the forest, screeching through the leave-less trees, the fallen colors on the forest floor, in the dirt, being kicked up and rattled like beans in a bowl. He couldn't tell you exactly if he had shuddered from the wind or not, only that he had shivered. He drew the coat around him a little tighter.

The burns were healing well, now only several raised, paler-than-white lumps and ridges on parts of his skin to name he had burnt. Most of them were on his legs, as well, which wouldn't scar as easily. Soon the lumps on his legs— it might take a year, or two, maybe even five, but they— would heal over and be almost unnoticeable even to him, who would know exactly where they were.

He swallowed something in his throat, probably the same thing he had swallowed while in that room with Levirrier, and it burned as it went down. He made a small groan, searing it, and held his throat gently. Another slightest breeze blew by ever so gently, chilling him beyond his skin. Like little ants, marching up his arms and digging until their cold little feet were under his skin. His innards were squirming, not like butterflies or snakes, but _eels_, slimy, wet and gross, curling and slithering inside, out and around in his intestines.

Maybe he had wanted to get out of the house because he felt he might throw up again? His hands were lowered to his side, and he tried to remove any contact he had with his own body, relieving pressure as much as he could.

He was tired, again. Sleep had been getting harder and harder to really... what was the word for that? His eyes burned when he moved them to bright patches and he was blinking a lot more than he usually did. His muscles ached and mouth was dry, and in all honesty, he could probably have fallen asleep against the house where he leaned against the wooden structure. It was a lot more comfortable there than you would have imagined, impossibly more comfortable, even with the temperatures changing again to chill him and make him wrap the cloak even more firmly around his arms. His eyes were drooping and begging to be closed to stop the burning behind them that was beginning to exist even without light.

He knew that he would fall asleep if he closed his eyes for even a moment, even if it was outside, but it had to be better than sleeping in the bed again, right? It had to be better than... being... inside...

better...

than....

being...

with...

_creak— SLAM_

The sound of the rusted door hinges being abused made him jump and his eyes snap back open from the edge of sweet sleep.

"A-Allen?" Lenalee stuttered, surprised at finding Allen hiding outside. They apparently hadn't been looking for him, or not even noticed he had been gone was more likely. "What are you doing out here?" Her English faltered into formal 'first learned' for a moment. Allen only caught it because he had been stuck in that same 'formal' tongue whenever he talked rationally lately.

"'Uh-ehn," He replied quickly. _Nothing_. It was with a small pained needle sticked into his heart that he confirmed they hadn't even noticed his absence. _Why should they? I didn't do anything to make them search. They have other things to deal with_. "'Orry," He tried, his throat searing lightly at the 'R's in the word.

Lenalee paused a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling something small out of it, wrapped up in a thin cloth. It was dark brown and broken up into chunks when she held some out to him. "Suck on one," she said. "Lavi said it would help your throat," Allen did not cringe as his only excuse to remain silent was unknowingly ripped away from him. He lifted one shying right hand up to meet hers and picked the little chunk up and carelessly pushed it between his teeth and into his mouth, which didn't seem to want to open fully.

_Chocolate _his mind seemed to register.

His throat seemed to ease slightly, his mind clearing and his muscles relaxing a bit. _I forgot what chocolate tasted like..._ "...thanks..." He said, his throat more bearable with the bitter thing in his mouth. He hadn't eaten chocolate very often, just a few seeds every now and then when he was with... Cross... and once, long ago, with Ma—

_I feel sick..._

Allen looked away from Lenalee slowly, staring down at the wood beneath him, hoping she would just go away.

She didn't.

"...Allen?" She called, softly, "Is something wrong?" Lenalee knealed over until they were at relatively the same level, Allen's head still turned away from her as she reached out a hand to lightly touch his right shoulder. He winced. "Allen?"

"..I'm fine," He sighed, turning the chocolate over in his mouth and sucking on another side of it to continue soothing his throat. Lenalee sat down beside him, her whole hand now easing onto his shoulder as she tried to come closer to him.

"You're lying," She whispered. "I've been where you were, Allen, I know you're not fine."

"...how long... were you there?" He asked, the chocolate growing smaller in his mouth.

"Three years before Komui came," She whispered to him.

Sudden overwhelming guilt fell onto him. _Three years_, he thought, _three years and I'm griping about six measly months_. It was hell, but...

But...

_Lenalee._

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"I just..."

"Allen..." A gentle hand was placed over his mouth. Allen stopped breathing. Lenalee pulled her hand back the instant she realized her mistake. "Listen, Allen...." She began, holding her offending hand to against her chest and not attempting to come any closer to him. "It took me months and months to act normally after being in Central, and... and I'm still not... you know... I'm not quite... right..." She tripped over her words uneasily, trying to find things that wouldn't hurt her but wouldn't hurt Allen, either. "But... but Allen..." Lenalee was really trying, honestly and truly, to not say the only thing she could think of. She couldn't comfort anyone without physical contact, and contact was what Allen needed right then, but he wouldn't let it be given.

Lenalee eventually lost her fight with herself. "Allen... it doesn't matter how long we were there, Central knew I was an exorcist and... they knew you were a—"

"_Don't say it_," Allen was stiff, rigid, the unearthly snarl that came out of his mouth right before Lenalee was about to finish her sentence had come straight out of something worse than Hell. "_Don't say it_," His visible eye was screwed shut, and inside his coat, his hands were balled into fists.

A gust of cold air chilled them momentarily, and Lenalee couldn't speak.

"I... I _know _that it was... different, but... but.. I—" Allen began to choke on his words, the chocolate in his mouth disappearing completely now and his throat was getting sore again. "I cant... you..." His eyes began to heat again. _Lenalee was so little.... Lenalee was a child when they... Not like me.... Lenalee was so little... _His heart began to burn, twisting in his chest. "You... we..." A hot something coursed down his cheek quickly. "God... Lena..."

"...have some more chocolate, Allen," Lenalee whispered, not daring to say more as she extended her hand with another small chunk of chocolate in it. Allen took it from her, but didn't put it in his mouth. He fidgeted with it in his hand, rolling it between his fingers and passing it from hand to hand. "Allen, please, your throat..." Allen shook his head slowly. _I don't care_. He turned to look at her with one, pale, puffy eye. _I just cant care, Lenalee._

"What's wrong?" Lenalee asked quietly. "Allen, what's wrong? You need to tell us..." He shook his head.

Lenalee frowned at this. "We cant help you if we don't know what's wrong, Allen," She reminded him, a small flame lit within her. "Tell us what to do, what we're doing wrong... okay?" He didn't even shake his head this time, he just stared at her, silently, with so much sadness locked in his eyes that Lenalee could feel his pain through them, it seemed. Like looking into his soul.

"Allen, we need you to trust us," The moment Lenalee said 'trust', Allen knew the path down which she was taking this, and slowly, the pain in his heart grew a bit more intense.

"We have to know what's going on with you... if we don't, we cant help you at all," He didn't move, just looked ahead, trying to blot out the sounds with the images. A futile attempt, and his heart clenched.

"Ju... just because you think you're in this alone— and please, Allen, I know how it is, I do— just because you think you're alone doesn't mean you are..." With a savage twist in his chest, he knew what the next thing she would say would be. He wished she wouldn't say that. He wished she wouldn't remind him.

"Allen... we're you're comrades, aren't we? We're friends, right?"

He wished she wouldn't ever learn how horribly those words always managed to hurt him.

Slowly, he put the piece of chocolate into his mouth and chewed on it lightly, not bothering to suck. His fingers had smears of brown on them from bits that had melted in his fingers.

Lenalee grew concerned, frightened at his silence. A silence in which he did not answer.

"Allen, we _are _friends... right?"

Allen nodded slightly, slowly, not bothering to turn his head to look her in the eye. His eyes were both covered by both the mask and the thin curtains of white bangs, longer than Lenalee had seen them grow on Allen's own consent. The only thing visible when he did finally reply was his mouth moving.

"Yeah... we're friends, Lenalee, we are..." _That's why it's so hard to keep going._

A thought had been egging Allen for a while by then, a thought that had been with him for ever since they had come to Moa's and he had regained consciousness. They couldn't just loiter around anylonger.

They were going to ruin this safe place if they did. They were going to lead this little German town to an ugly ruin.

"Lenalee... we need to talk about somethin'..." He mumbled so softly that Lenalee nearly missed the words. She sat and simply stared at him for a moment.

"...About what?" She asked. "Allen, are you going to—"

"No," He said. "No, I... Lenalee..." _I need to stop. I need to stop right now._

_But I cant._

"Lenalee, can you...." He stood up slowly, leading his body upward with his hands on the wall behind him as Lenalee continued to watch him carefully, whether out of concern he would fall or because she didn't want to miss a word in fear he wouldn't repeat it, Allen had no idea. "Can you do me a favor?"

Lenalee jumped, as if snapped out of a trance at him. "A favor? Y-yeah, yeah! Of course I can, Al—"

"T-tell Lavi and Kanda and Johnny that... we... we're leaving at the end of the week. T-tell Moa for me too, okay?" A harassing cough suddenly worked up his throat as once again, a gust of wind chilled the world. Allen almost didn't manage to keep the chocolate in his mouth.

"Leaving?" Lenalee repeated. "But Allen, you're not better yet, we need to—"

"—I'm _fine_, Lenalee," It was the closest to a threatening voice she had ever heard Allen use towards people he considered friends, and Lenalee was frightened of it. "We don't have the time to stick around endangering this town any longer... I fine. We can go," With barely turning his head, he cast her a hard look through his right eye. "I'm better," _I'm lying_.

"Allen...."

"I'm _fine_."

He turned at the quickest pace he could and reentered the house with it's hot, stuffy, stale air instantly burning his throat again. His limbs were aching weights on his shoulders and thighs as he made his way to the room Moa had given him. He hiked there as quickly as his still battered body would let him.

He was so tired...

The lock sliding into place was comforting to him, as well as the clinking noises that the chain made as he attached it to the frame. Locks were good. Locks kept intruders out, thieves...

He collapsed on the bed again, rolling onto his back to breathe and letting his limbs sprawl out over the warm, soft fabric...

Timcanpy flew over from some hiding place in the room, carrying a half-full cup of water. Allen sat up and downed it all in one go, the remainder of a small chunk of chocolate going down with it.

Then, he fell back onto the bed, his mind ceasing function very quickly as Timcanpy snuggled up into his master's side, maybe sensing that Allen was under that stress yet again.

Allen fell asleep quickly and silently, too tired to even manage to cry about what he had done this time. He had three days to figure out how to survive in the outside world, and not enough time in a millennium to figure out how to apologize...

To everyone...


End file.
